


Manifest

by aapicula



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x02 coda, M/M, the lightest of spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 15:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aapicula/pseuds/aapicula
Summary: In a moment of weakness, Cas finds him.





	Manifest

They’re exhausted, and it quickly becomes a necessity for them to take a break, to catch a few hours of shut-eye. Suddenly, Dean can’t even keep his head up while he’s walking. He stumbles into an empty classroom, numb, and collapses against a wall. The events of the day crash over him, and he’s not sure if he should pass out or scream or cry.

A soft sound to his left catches his attention. It’s a good thing it’s not a ghost or a demon; his senses are dulled and it takes him a second to register someone has entered the room. He almost misses the flash of blue eyes, concerned and hurt and tentatively hopeful.

“Cas.”

His voice is hoarse, rough with exhaustion. If he’d had more energy he’d have chuckled; his timbre was nearly as deep as the angel’s. 

“Are you all right?”

He’s not. Cas doesn’t need to ask. He knows the answer that Dean will give, and he knows the _real_ answer. But he asks anyway, even though Dean doesn’t deserve the concern.

“M’fine.” Cas gives a very un-angelic snort and leans against the wall next to Dean. He doesn’t look at him, doesn’t further acknowledge the lie. Dean is grateful. “You can sit down, you know.”

There’s still a respectable distance between them when Cas sinks to the floor. He crosses his legs, posture rigid, and he stares straight ahead. Dean is reminded sharply of the time before he really knew Cas. Of the soldier, the agent of divine power. It only lasts a moment before the facade breaks, and Cas glances down at him, something soft in his eyes.

“Sam and Rowena are asleep.” That’s good. They both need the rest. Dean needs the rest, but he can’t see how he’s going to get any.

“Are we real?”

He doesn’t mean to ask the question. It slips past his defenses and hangs in the air, heavy with significance, and he feels himself recoil in shame. It’s desperate, his tone thin and pleading, and he can’t help it.

Cas doesn’t answer, at least not verbally. He inches closer, carefully, as if Dean were a spooked animal. In some ways, he supposes, that’s exactly what he is. He’s only a few inches away before Dean moves too, drawn in as he always is by Cas’ magnetism. 

The fabric of the trenchcoat is rough beneath his fingertips. He pulls Cas closer, suddenly desperate to feel something, _anything_ besides the anger and the hurt and the despair that have encompassed him these past weeks. Were he a little less tired, a bit more in control, he’d never let his head settle to Cas’ shoulder, never hunch into the comfort that Cas selflessly offers. That he could never hope to deserve. 

And despite everything, despite how he’s hurt Cas over and over again and screwed up the best thing in his life, Cas holds him. Holds him like everything in his interminably long life depends on it. And Dean relaxes. His eyes flutter shut, breathing steadying as he melts into the warmth that surrounds him.

Cas’ voice is a rough whisper, so close that he can feel the warm breath tickle over his ear. 

“This will _always_ be real.”


End file.
